Weekend at Bobby's
by BeautifulCalamity123
Summary: Dean Winchester-arrogant, sarcastic, cocky, and one hell of a man (not to mention, a hunter). Serah wanted nothing to do with the accused womanizer. She didn't even know him, not till he breaks into her house one night only to tell her that he himself is her newest partner. If it was difficult dealing with him before, it's even harder now that her emotions are in the way. Damn him
1. Beginning

-Past-

Serah Jane Matthias didn't ask to be born to two of the South's best hunters. She didn't ask to be raised like one of them-cleaning up the world's messes and fighting off things children had nightmares of. She didn't want that. Normality-that's what she wanted. A house. Family. Kids. Love. She'd rather deal with debt troubles than with which demon was after her ass every other week. She wanted a life.

It was only when she began to search for a life did it slam her in the face. A weekend at Bobby's-her godfather's house-was all she needed. Indian summers and fireworks and living a little, she was finally experiencing life. And she met her first best friend.

She didn't know his name. She really didn't need to. "Kiddo" or "asshole" always came to mind when she saw him, or the ever beautiful nick name "Motor Boy" she'd appropriately given him when she first met him, watching him fix up cars and wiping grease off his forehead.

Motor Boy and Ribbon Girl. Perfect and beautiful and some fucked up friendship she'd never understand.

Normal.

They were normal.

At least, as much normal as a 15 year old Serah Matthias and a 17 year old Motor Boy could be at the time.

-Present-

Serah was curled up at her Dining Room table, her hazel eyes dangerously focused on the gun in her hand as she cleaned it. The ticking of the clock was the only noise in the room-that, and the dog that lay under the table, sleeping at her feet protectively. It was a peaceful night. Or, well, as peaceful as a night as any hunter could get.

After a few minutes, her ears perked up at the noise of her floorboards creaking. The dog under the table also seemed to hear it, letting out a low and menacing growl as the beast approached from under the table and came to Serah's side.

"Hush..." Serah reassembled her gun and stood up, her small frame stiffening up a bit more as she heard something hit the wall.

In an instant, Serah wound up around the corner, gun raised and ready to shoot the silhouette in the shadows. "You have five seconds to get out of my house. Start running."

"Ooo, scary." Dean cooed, his own gun raised at her head. His grin brightened even more when he saw her. Long dark hair, big hazel eyes, he was definitely how he imagined her to be.

"I have to leave already?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. He let out a few "tsk, tsk, tsks." and began walking forwards out of the shadow of the hallway. "And we were just getting to know each other, Serah. So disappointed. Really."

Serah pursed her lips together, eyes squinting at the man before her. How the hell did he know her name? "And who the hell are you?" she snapped, standing idle as he walked forwards, inspecting every inch of his body before looking back at his face. He looked somewhat familiar. She couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe he was just really fucking gorgeous. Probably a hunter. All hunters looked the same to her.

"Oh you don't know me?" he teased. "A hunter who doesn't know the famous Dean Winchester? Shame on you, Serah. Shame."

Dean Winchester. Yeah, she heard about him. The oh, so powerful vessel to Michael. The loyal son to John Winchester, a pretty great hunter in her book. She just never ran into his son. Until now.

"Dean. Dean Winchester." she said, the name rolling off her tongue easily. "Get the hell out." she snapped, her finger on the trigger, more than ready to shoot.

"Ah, ah, ahh." Dean shook his head, his grin spreading across his face. "I got somethin' you want."

"Oh yeah?" She raised both eyebrows at him. "And what's that?"

Put the gun down." he ordered, staring straight at her. "Then we'll talk."

"You first, sweetheart." she talked back, her eyebrow raising in response.

"You're a real party favorite, aren't you?" he scoffed, tossing his gun at her. She barely caught it before setting both of their guns on the table. She called him sweetheart. Jeez. She hadn't changed a bit. "Bobby did say you had an attitude on you."

Serah's eyes widened a bit. "Bobby?" she asked, cocking her head to the side slightly. "You know Bobby?"

"Mhmm." Dean nodded, taking his jacket off and draping it over a seat at her table before sitting down, spreading his legs out. "Like a father to me. Said you were saucy. Can't really blame him if you ask me." he smirked, eyeing her as she sat down across from him, tapping his fingers on his leg.

"Shut up." She soured, tucking her dark locks behind her ear and crossing her arms over her chest. "So what? Bobby sent you?"

"Mhmm." he muttered again, leaning forwards and resting his arms on the hardwood table. That wasn't exactly a lie. Bobby did say that he had to look out for Serah every once in a while, not like he wouldn't do that anyways. But he took it upon himself to do this. After finding out she wasn't dead, damn, that was the best news he'd heard in a long time. Of course he would find her again. He just hoped it was all worth it.

"Why, huh? He doesn't think I can handle myself?" she asked defensively. Typical. That was so typical of Bobby to send yet another hunter after her. To make sure she was okay, that she wasn't dead yet. She understood why Bobby worried so much about her, but another hunter? Really?

"No." Dean cleared his throat, looking down at his folded hands for a moment. "He's dead."

Serah froze. Bobby was dead. Bobby, her godfather, the man who always wiped her tears, who always patted her on the back, who always let her stay over and made chocolate chip pancakes when it was her birthday. He was dead? No. He couldn't be. She nodded, swallowing thickly before looking up at the hunter. "He's dead?" she asked, just to make sure he wasn't fucking with her.

"Bingo." he scoffed weakly, his eyes meeting hers, bobbing his head to the side.

"Well, what happened?"

"Rugaru hunt a couple miles outside of Sioux Falls." he told her, biting his lower lip. "I didn't hear from him for a couple weeks so I checked out his place. Found his journal, found the hunt, found him dead."

Serah kept her eyes on him. "Oh." she swallowed. "And you're here to check on me?"

Dean waited a moment. "Nope." he grinned. "I'm you're new partner."

-Past-

Man, this girl fucked him up. No really. He was considered fucked. Dean Winchester didn't mean to like this girl. He didn't even want to like this girl. But something about her made his head spin, made his insides outside, made his skin crawl either with agony or admiration. He didn't really care at this point which one it was.

He also didn't mean to stay at Bobby's for that long. But dad was on a hunting trip and insisted for Sammy to come along in order to get his mind set on hunting. That's what Dean and Sam were destined to do since before they were even an idea. Sam didn't really get that, or want to get that. But John drilled, scratched, and engraved hunting into Dean's head. It was Sam's turn.

Serah didn't know his name. It wasn't important. At least, it wasn't important to Dean. His mind was more wrapped around the thought that one of them was going to have to leave soon. And leaving meant forgetting.

This girl. God damn, this girl had him hooked. He tried avoiding her. He really did. He spent most of his time at Bobby's fixing the cars in the junk yard, coming in once a day for dinner, then going back outside until he couldn't stand the smell of gasoline anymore. But no. Oh, no. She wouldn't have that. She annoyed him. Tugging his leg when he was under a car, getting grease on the upholstery, even mocking him when she shot a bullet perfectly square on the target when they practiced their shooting. But even after all that, he still liked something about her. Something Dean seriously lacked throughout his life.

She had hope.


	2. Shots

-Present-

The wind nearly knocked out of her system. Partner? How the hell could this guy-of all hunters in the world-be her partner?

Serah shook her head, standing up and staring at the table's dark, wooden surface. "In your dreams, Winchester." She gave him a half assed smirk, a trademark kind of smirk that read "I'll fuck you up if you try and mess with me" and ran in the Matthias lineage. "You are most certainly not my partner. I work alone."

Dean teetered back in his seat, looking up at her with a gaze that usually made women crumble. Usually. "I'm not giving you a choice. Bobby told me to watch you." And he sure as hell would.

"I don't need a babysitter." Serah fumed, rubbing her head and pushing her dark chocolate bangs away from her eyes in annoyance. "Especially not you." Anyone but him-a womanizing, sleazy, asshole who probably just wanted to get into her pants.

"Me?" Dean let out a soft laugh, his grin spreading over his lips. "What's wrong with me?" He sounded all too innocent and he knew it. Of course she was on edge about him anyways, he was Dean Winchester.

"I believe the question should be: What isn't wrong with me?" She mocked, narrowing her hazel eyes at him, anger boiling up in the pit of his stomach as she observed his calm and playful features. "I've heard about you-you're terrible. You're an asshole."

Dean's emerald eyes rolled in his skull. "And you're not an asshole? Usually people aren't so hostile when they have visitors, sweetheart."

Serah stiffened. "Don't call me that." She hissed, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "And I have the right to be hostile. You came in my house-you /snuck/ into my house! Normal people knock!"

"What can I say? I'm not the most normal person." Dean stood up and walked over to the refrigerator, opening it with a sigh. "You got any beer?"

He was impossible. He was-she couldn't even describe what he was because he was just-he was just Dean. You'd have to hear all the rumors to understand. "Not for you."

"Now, come on." Dean stood a bit straighter, towering over the girl that stood just a few feet away. "I haven't done anything to you." Yet. "You don't have to be such an ass, Ser."

Ser. Her ever present nick name to humanity. And it had slipped off Dean's lips just enough to make her squirm. Okay. So maybe she was being.../irrational/.

Serah sighed quietly, biting at her bottom lip. "Get me one too..." God knew she'd need it if she was going to be talking with Dean.

Dean's face brightened up slightly and he dove in, grabbing two Coronas and handing one to her. "Now that's better, Ser."

"Yea. Whatever." Serah popped the top of her beer off, allowing the rim to touch her lips as she tipped back and took a long gulp.

-Past-

"God damn, Serah!" Dean snapped, rolling out from under the car he was working on. "Get out of the car, you asshole. It's not finished yet."

Serah peeked her head from outside the window, looking down at Dean, her ribbons dangling from the back of her head. "Oh yeah?" she snapped back. "Doesn't matter. You gotta make me get out, Motor Boy."

God, he was so done with this girl. "You're in the fucking car when I'm under it." he said bluntly, as if it wasn't obvious. "You're gonna kill me. Literally this time."

Serah shrugged, her lips quirking in a half smirk. "Oops." she teased, opening the door and stepping out, kicking Dean's leg in the process. "Guess I just do that sometimes. Not my fault if all you do is fix things."

"Cars." Dean growled, sitting up on the ground and pulling at his sweat stained shirt, airing out his body. "I fix cars, sweetheart. 'Bout the only thing I can do around here."

Serah kept her eyes on him, toying with the pink ribbons. "Hm. Maybe. Maybe not." she said, waving her hand at him and turning around to walk back to the house. "Get back to work, Motor Boy."

-Present-

Dean got drunk. Very, very drunk.

After he downed the beer, he downed another one, and then another one. Same with Serah.

"So, wait." Dean slurred, his eyes drooping, his head bobbing slightly. "You hunt by yourself?"

Serah tipped her head back, finally polishing off her third bottle and dropping it on the table, letting it roll off and onto the ground. "Mhmm." she cooed, leaning in slightly, and nodding. "Always have. Except for this loser down here." she muttered, motioning to her dog sitting under the table.

"Ah." Dean nodded, licking his lips from the beer left on them. "Got it. So I'm guessing you get drunk with all the fucking hunters Bobby sends here."  
She laughed dully, her hand clumsily reaching over to shove him lightly. "Noooo." she shook her head, her eyes narrowing at him. "How'd you know Bobby did that?"

Dean shrugged. "Lucky guess." he muttered, looking around before leaning back on his chair.

Silence filled the air before Serah stood up and stared at him for a moment. "Wanna take shots?" she offered, raising one eyebrow. "Not feelin' a thing yet."

Dean's lips turned up in a smile. "You read my mind, kid."

She stumbled over to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses before slowly making her way back to the table, setting a glass in front of Dean. "Show me whatchu got, asshole." she teased, pouring the liquid into both glasses.

Dean didn't hesitate as he brought the glass up to his lips. He didn't hesitate as he swallowed the toxic liquid. But he hesitated as he felt the vodka seep into his veins, as it made his head spin even more. He hesitated as took more shots, glancing at Serah, watching her do the same. They were going to do something stupid. He just knew it.

Damn. He was so fucked.


	3. Love's First, Drunken Kiss

Hope you guys enjoy the newest chapter of Weekend at Bobby's! It's one hell of a chapter ;)

_

-Past-

Serah stared at the golden brown liquid in her glass, sloshing it around slightly in wonder. Her first taste of alcohol-ever. She was finally 21 and able to legally drink. It was even pretty to look at, the aged whiskey from Bobby's own personal collection.

"Don't just stare at it, Serah." Bobby's gruff baritone knocked her out of her daze and she jumped slightly. "Drink it."

Serah gave him a look, worry etched into her features as she pouted. "What if I get drunk?"

Bobby grinned a bit, drinking a bit more from his own glass. "You won't get drunk off one glass. Plus, you're Trudy and Damon's kid. You come from a line of hard drinkers who knew how to hold their liquor, sweetie."

Serah laughed in response, nodding once and biting her bottom lip as she stared into her glass. "If, ah, if you say so..." She sat up a bit straighter, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath. "Okay."

It burned going down-a sweet, fiery burn going down her throat. The glass clanked back down to the table and she coughed, which drew a hearty laugh from Bobby. "O-Oh my-"

Bobby gave her an affectionate pat on the back. "Damn, Ser. You alright?"

"Fine, fine." She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine, Bobby." Serah stated as she rubbed her neck. "J-Just...wow..."

"Want a Cosmo or somethin?" Bobby laughed again, downing the rest of his drink.

A Cosmo? Now she wasn't exactly fluent on drinks yet, but she knew that was one of the girliest drinks you could buy.

"Hell no!" She snapped, taking up the challenge. She passed Bobby her glass and lifted her chin indignantly. "Hit me up."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Don't wantcha to get drunk on me, Ser."

"Do it." Serah nodded. "Besides, I can't get drunk, remember? I'm a Matthias."

_

-Present-

Serah wasn't just drunk, oh no. She was drunk off her ass-thanks to the shots, anyways. Beer couldn't just get her drunk, maybe a bit tipsy, but the shots, the shots tripped her out.

Serah knocked back her tenth shot, giggling when she put the glass back down to the table, her words slurred. "I give. I can't do anymore."

Dean glanced at her, his green eyes dark and dilated. A crooked, boyish grin spread across his lips and he leaned back in his chair. "Admit defeat. Say that I won."

"You..." Serah began, her fingers tapping at the wood table. She shot Dean a rebellious glare and as grinned. "You ass."

"Say it~" Dean laughed, his head tilting back as he rocked back on the legs of his chair. "Come on. Say it, Ser." He was drunk off his ass, too. And he knew it.

Serah licked the remanded of the vodka away from her lips and she smirked. "Go fuck yourself, Winchester."

Dean howled with laughter, and Serah sat on the table, crawling over to the bottle of vodka, grabbing it and looking at the label.

"Ya know," She laughed, eyes rolling over the words "vodka". "You're a real ass, Dean. I don't even see how women sleep with you."

"Maybe if I got a bit more drunk, you'd find out." Dean shot back, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol as she glanced up at her position on the table.

There was a part of her-the drunken, needy part of her-wanted to test just how true that statement was. Dean Winchester was a once in a lifetime gig. Fucking him would be one of the highlights of her life, whether if that was good or bad, she didn't know. Then again, there was the still sane parts of her being. Dean was just a bad idea waiting to happen. He got girls in his bed just by looking at them. He was horrible. He was just a one night stand. Nothing more than a sex god with more than a million women at his disposal. Sick. It was sick. He was just sick and it made her-

She didn't realize she was on the ground until she noticed the table was over her in her blurry line of vision. Her head was throbbing even more from the fall and she groaned in pain. Dammit.

"Fuck." She hissed in pain, closing her eyes and arching slightly off the floor, rolling to her side and holding her head before a collection of giggles escaped her lips. She had always been a giggly, lovey drunk.

Dean stared at her, grinning hazily and laughing as if his life depended on it. "You're a clumsy drunk, aren't you?" he teased, his head hitting the wall to the side of him, not really helping the already formed headache pounding underneath his skull. "Or are you just like that all the time?'

Serah continued to giggle like a 12 year old, her body curling up on the floor as she rolled around. "Shuddap..." she laughed, opening her eyes and glancing at him. His face looked slightly disoriented in her eyes, which made his features blur into a mess of confusion and perfectly aligned jawlines that he may or may not have.

Dean wouldn't say that he felt bad for her. It was her own fault for getting drunk and tumbling to the ground like she didn't even have feet, but damn, she was loosing it with her giggling, and Dean had never seen her like this. Ever. She was always a stubborn person, just like himself. And she would've been damned to let anyone see this side of her.

"You laugh too much." Dean said instead of the million other things he could've said instead.

Serah burst into another fit of laughter. "Lighten up, Winchester." she muttered, her breaths heavy and slow. "You're drunk too."

Dean pursed his lips, his smile fading slightly. "Nahhh..." he shook his head. "Not that much."

Serah raised an eyebrow as an offer for a challenge. "Oh yeah?" she talked back, her body still on the floor. "Prove it. Stand up, Winchester."

Dean mimicked her eyebrow raising and shook his head. "I don't gotta prove anything to you, sweetheart." he grunted, slumping in his chair. "Im fine. Not drunk at all."

"Prove it." Serah repeated, letting her head rest on her arms.

Dean waited for a moment, staring at her before shifting slightly. "Fine, asshole." he grumbled, his hand holding the wall for support as he slowly stood up, his mind splitting headache going wild. "S-See?" he stammered, swallowing as he stood up completely on his weak and shaking knees. "Im f-"

Serah was soon joined by Dean on the ground, his knees giving out on him, making him trip and fall to the ground next to her, his head hitting the floor hard. "Aw, fuck!" he yelped, rolling around just as Serah did to lay on his stomach, his head in his hands. "Fuck, that hurt."

Serah hooted with laughter, watching Dean as he fell next to her. "You're a liar!" she exclaimed, shoving his arm weakly and looking towards him. She knew he couldnt hide behind all that macho man crap that he pulled. He was drunk off his ass. Literally. "You're just as drunk as me, Winchester."

"Shuddap." Dean muttered, sounding vaguely similar to Serah. His eyes met hers, squinting them before lightening his glare, and started to laugh weakly. Maybe Dean was a giggly drunk too. Not as much as Serah, but still, he wasn't a hard ass all the time.

"You're an idiot." Serah barked, their faces separated by a mere couple inches. His features were still disoriented to her, but his bright green eyes flaked with gold were as clear as day. They were mesmerizing really, even if they were rimmed with a sinful stained red color, thanks to the excessive amounts of beer and booze he consumed.

"Thanks, hon." Dean chuckled, staring at her with the same amount of lust she unintentionally gave him. "You too."

A glimmer of longing rest in Dean's eyes. Serah noticed it, finding it was seemingly nostalgic. There was only one other guy that looked at her that way but he was long gone. Man, she hadn't seen him since she left Bobby's place for good.

"You're not gettin' in my pants, Winchester." Serah muttered just to be safe, her stare softening to the point where she was gazing at him. He really did have a pretty face. Maybe it was just the booze talking but damn, she wondered how good it would feel if his lips smashed against hers. She also wondered what it would feel like if his hands were all over her body, how it would feel to rip his clothes off right then and there, but she laughed that thought out of her mind. Well, almost. "Doesn't matter how much I'm drunk or how much I wanna fucking kiss you right now."

Woah. Woah...No. Shit. She did not just say that out loud. She couldnt have. That would be catastrophic. That would be-

"What?" Dean muttered, a smirk plastering on his lips.

Okay. Maybe she did say that out loud. Oh god, she was fucked.

"You wanna kiss me, huh." Dean teased, laughing dully and raising an eyebrow at her, his face creeping closer to hers, his lips quirking slightly.

Yep. Fucked.

"W-What?" Serah stammered, shaking her head slightly and swallowing. "N-No. Forget it. I-I didn't say-"

And bam. She was kissing Dean Winchester. Well, Dean was kissing her technically. Just as Serah thought, he smashed his lips against hers, his hand fitting against the back of her neck as he forced her lips to play against his.

She protested for a quick second, before her lips melted into his, tasting the toxic, warm booze on his lips, making her feel more drunk than she already was. He was driving her insane with the way he was kissing her slowly, as if he was teasing her into taking charge. Damn, it made her crazy to the point where she just wanted to just climb on top of him and go animalistic.

Dammit. She was kissing Dean Winchester.

And she actually liked it 


	4. Gimme Shelter, Winchester

"_Ooh a storm is threatnin' my very life today. If I don't get some shelter, yeah, I'm gonna fade away. Oh, children. It's just a shot away. It's just a shot away. Oh, children. It's just a shot away. It's just a shot away~"_

Gimme Shelter. The Rolling Stones. That had always been one of her favorite songs—even when it first came out. The beautiful harmony between bass and electric guitar, the male and female voices ranting and raving over rape and murder and love—the angst, the lust, the music. It made her feel completely livid, alive and rebellious.

"_I'll tell ya, love—sister. It's just a kiss away. It's just a kiss away."_

And that damn song was all that even capable of running through her head as soon as Dean kissed her. Even in all his drunkenness—he mustered up all his skill and past experience, and made it one of the best, damn drunk kisses she'd ever experienced. Hell, it was probably the best kiss of her life. Hot. Slow. And tasting like a mix between her favorite vodka and beer. The act was perfectly sinful and dark and fucked up—but whatever. They themselves were fucked up, which made the situation that much better—lying on the floor, drunk off their asses, and kissing. It had a bit of a romantic sense to it, in a way, and the way his lips played and moved over hers almost seemed familiar, like replaying scenes and watching them over and over—the way he did it—it all seemed familiar. But, being that this was the first time she'd ever seen this man—Dean Winchester—that was impossible.

There was no way she knew him. No way. It was absurd.

But Serah wasn't pulling back anytime soon, nope. Not to save her life. Her hands had found their way to his shirt, coiling into the cotton material of his shirt and tugging him closer as she kept her mouth preoccupied with his, matching his movements and teasing him of sorts—her lips ghosting over his at moments, hearing him let out a small, breathless sigh before taking him in once again. Dean wasn't unnerved, though, being the sex god he was. He, of course, had his own set of tricks up his sleeve. One hand on the back of her neck, enabling her to escape him anymore while his other hand travelled over her side and rested at the small of her back, drawing invisible patterns and making her shiver.

Yes, they were drunk.

Did they care?

Hell no.

All rational thought had left Serah's head—completely evaporating the moment he kissed her. She had thought him an annoying prick who was only here to get in her pants like every other guy she came around. Aggravating. Cocky. An asshole—he was annoying—like gum stuck to the bottom of her favorite pumps of Akali (her giant Great Pyrenees) shedding on her before she went to go work a case. Now, she couldn't think of anything but his lips or of that damn song. She was…completely out of it.

Dean pressed to her, swiping his tongue over her bottom lip. Just as he'd suspected, she was surprised and let out a gasp, allowing him to slip past her lips and explore her alcohol wasted mouth—making him feel even more drunk than before. She stiffened up for a moment before relaxing against the man and running her fingers through his hair.

He hadn't kissed her in ages—not since Bobby's. But of course, she didn't know that. It was best to let her figure that out on her own, who he really was to her. Motor Boy—the 17 year old boy who never spoke his name to her. The one that checked on her when she had nightmares and the one who had given Serah her first kiss during a thunderstorm because she had been afraid. She needed to figure that out herself.

Dammit, with the way she was touching him, he wouldn't be able to fight her off much longer. She was killer—and she was killing him. She was soft and warm and so fucking good at kissing. Even when she was unexperienced, she was good.

-Past-

"Serah, its fine." Dean mumbled, brushing her hair out of her face. He could practically feel her trembling against him, her body completely spazzing out as another clap of thunder sounded. "Its just a thunderstorm. We get these all the time."

Serah glared up at him. He could tell that she was trying to be tough. He could see right through her. But under all that stone hard coldness in her eyes, he could see fear. Complete and absolute fear that hell, it made him pretty spooked too. "Not s-s-scared." she mumbled, looking back down and curling up closer to him.

She hated these thunderstorms They were the only thing she was completely terrified and mortified about. Not just because they were loud as hell, or because they lit up the world with sinful flashes of light. But because they were dark. During thunderstorms, the world just...shuts down for that time and utter darkness takes over. The flashes of lighting come and go, only to remind you that the jet-blacked sky is still there. The booming of the storms shook her to the very core. The snaps and rasps of the rain and electricity made her want to just curl up and move to somewhere where they didn't even know thunderstorms existed. It was stupid, she knew that. But damn, she wished she wasn't afraid of them. Unlike Dean, who had no fears and was completely fearless, she was getting eaten away by her own anxiety.

"Yeah, I can tell." Dean smirked slightly, wrapping his arm around her tighter. "But hey, I'm always available to be your personal man candy. Or pillow...depending on the night."

Serah rolled her eyes. God, he could always make a joke out of everything. She had never met a guy that could make her stomach quiver or make her knees weaken the way he did. It helped though. It took her mind off the god awful thunderstorm for a moment, allowing her to shove him and let out a small scoff. "Forget it, Motor Boy." she muttered, looking up at him. "You disgust me."

Dean took this half heartedly, letting out a dramatic gasp and pretending to be appalled by her words. "Oh, I'm weak." he gasped. "Seriously. I thought you could use a good sugar daddy in your life. Plus, I'm cute and I come with holy water. No charge."

Serah laughed again, the thunderstorm weakening in her mindset, her attention now forwarding towards Dean. "A sugar daddy, huh?" she mumbled, shaking her head after a while. "Nah, I'm good. Besides, I wouldn't like you anyways."

Lies. Lies were just pouring out her mouth, and reluctantly, she kept lying. She did not like Motor Boy. Or whatever the hell his name was. Oh, no. She loathed him. He made her skin crawl. He made her want to gouge her eyes out with Bobby's seance spoons. But then again, he was him. Which meant he was dreamy, dreamy beyond belief. He was hilarious. And Hell, he was a tough badass but he was still gentle and she was trying to wonder how he could be a lean, mean killing machine one minute, and then a sweet, protective guy helping her overcome her fear of thunderstorms the next minute. It just didn't make sense. And yet, she was still completely head over heels for him.

"You're a liar." Dean stated, his shoulder nudging into hers. "You love me, Matthias. You're just too much of a girl to admit it."

"Am not. I got nothing to admit." She retorted, gazing up at him, her expression softening unintentionally.

"Oh yeah?" Dean said as if it was almost a challenge. "You can't get outta your thick head and just admit you like me?"

"No." Serah said simply, a smile spreading on her lips. "I can't."

Dean was done with this girl. He was practically fishing for her to say something good, and yet, she was still stubborn as always. He liked her. He didn't want to, but he did. No girl was ever as bad ass as her. And then again, no girl was ever as annoying as her. It was a love-hate thing with Serah.

A sharp clap of thunder sounded across the eerie sky, the world lighting up for half a second before returning back to its darkness. Dean could feel Serah jump slightly, her body trembling again as she clutched onto his shirt, her fingers wrapping around the fabric tight.

"Its okay." Dean whispered, keeping his hold on her. His gaze averted to the window for a bit until he felt her rest her head against his chest.

Oh god, no.

This was getting way to romantic and stupid for him. Even if it wasn't romantic for her, he was getting way too agitated about her refusing to like him. It was stupid teenager shit at best. "You're okay. Hit me if it makes you feel better" he added.

"N-No." Serah croaked out, her eyes looking back up to him. For some reason, looking at him always made her feel better. Whether it was his stupid boyish smile or his stupid green eyes, he did. "I-I-Its okay. I believe y-you."

Dean nodded, swallowing as their eyes met. "Good." he said, his voice sounding a lot quieter and a lot more weak than usual. He couldnt take this anymore. Someone had to break the ice. And damn right it was going to be him. "You're gonna hate me for this." he muttered before leaning down and pressing a small kiss to her lips, pulling away when he felt the awkwardness rise in his stomach but smiling when he saw her eyes soften and a small smile break against her lips.

-Present-

Ugh. Headaches were probably on the list of things that pissed Dean off. The first thing he noticed when he woke up was inevitably his headache. The second thing he noticed was that he was sprawled out on the wooden floor of Serah's house, Serah extremely close to him considering her head was resting on his shoulder. The next thing he noticed? Well...probably that he had the taste of Serah all over his fucking face and neck, including a couple hickeys. Shit. No. This had to be a dream. A seriously fucked up dream. But when she started to wake up and stare at him as if he committed a crime other than fake credit card usage, thats when he knew that he fucked up.

"What the hell happened?" Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes and sitting up as she lifted her head.

Serah reached over, picking up the empty vodka bottle. "Shit." she muttered, running a hand through her tattered hair. "We drank a whole bottle."

"Oh gee thanks, Sherlock." Dean grumbled, wiping the taste of Serah off his lips and rubbing his neck. "Thanks for the sugar, by the way. I'll be sure to return the favor."

Serah glanced back over to him, her eyes widened slightly. "What?" she muttered, her eyes catching the hickeys along Dean's neck, her hand immediately reaching to her own neck, and reluctantly finding numerous hickeys there. "Oh my god...We didn't..."

"We totally did." Dean grinned smugly, his back against one of the table legs. "Just call me your sugar daddy."

Serah rolled her eyes. She heard that from somewhere, but her mind was way to fuzzy and dazed to even care to remember. "Shut up." she muttered, slumping over and wiping her mouth. "I hate you."

"You wish. You kissed me." Dean teased, running a hand through his hair, trying to comb it down.

"Yeah, but you kissed me first." Serah protested, giving him a glare.

"And you liked it." Dean prided himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Whatever." Serah muttered, dropping the bottle and letting it roll on the floor.

He was hopeless, she was hungover, and they were both pretty fucked up last night. Her eyes fell to the floor, Dean's sly grin still on his face as he kept his own eyes on her. Dean was pretty proud of himself to say the least. He was just glad that she didn't kick him out the second she saw the hickeys.

But Serah?

If this didn't top the awkwardest moment of her life, she didn't know what did.


	5. The Morning After

What an absolute_ asshole_.

Serah stared at her pissed off reflection in the steamy mirror of the bathroom. She was dripping wet with a small towel wrapped around her body. The hickeys on her neck stayed, like bright, pinkish purple stamps on her skin. Their existence pissed her off to the 'enth extent. She had hoped the shower would have at least dulled the color—but no, these damned, semi-permanent tattoos from Dean's lips would stay there for another hour or two—depending.

Thank God for concealer.

Serah pushed her dark hair away from her face, glowering still, as she peppered the magic makeup against the pale flesh of her neck. How the hell had it even happened? And…it hadn't meant anything. They were drunk. It didn't matter. But, still, how the hell had she managed to get so drunk as to exchange hickeys and kisses (that meant absolutely nothing)? It was all too…too unreal for her. She never did such spontaneous things—getting drunk and having a make out session with Dean Winchester himself. It was unheard of for her. She was a well brought together woman. She was clear headed, smart, sophisticated, calculating, and she was the daughter of Trudy and Damon. God only knew what her parents would have done if they had found out she'd kissed Dean.

Trudy and Damon (when they were still living) were good acquaintances with the Winchesters, and when Mary had died from the accident, John began working with the Matthias group to track down Azazel. Serah could blatantly remember the long nights her parents stayed up when she was younger, watching them with intent, wide eyes as they traced lore and strange occurrences in dealing with the demon. Trudy would often pick Serah up, whispering that she wasn't supposed to learn anything yet in dealing with the business her family was so engrossed in. Trudy would put her to bed, telling her stories of brave men and women who continually protected others by killing the things that were the very roots of nightmares and phobias. Serah loved the stories—never fully understanding that the stories were of her own parent's hunts until she became older.

Serah let out a small huff, rubbing her face gently. She missed her parents and usually blamed herself for their deaths. All three of them had been on a hunt—demon down near a small town in Alabama, close to the Georgia line. It had been one hell of a trap. Serah was tortured while her parents watched. In the end, they had killed the demons and freed Serah in the process—giving their lives that same night and dying holding each other's hand.

Serah jumped at the sound of someone knocking on the door of the bathroom, her voice shaky for a brief moment as she spoke. "Y-Yes?"

"Why do girls take such long showers?" Dean's voice floated through the oak, igniting her annoyance all over again. "I mean, seriously. What do you guys do in there?"

Serah rolled her eyes, glancing at the door as she clenched her jaw. "What do you want, Winchester?" She didn't have time for this. They were going on a hunt soon. She had to get ready. Serah dropped her towel to the floor and began pulling some appropriate clothing on—a white blouse and black pencil skirt. Formal. It looked like something an agent of the FBI would wear, most definitely.

"I'm waiting for you to get out." He gruffed, his head resting against the door of the bathroom door. "Hurry up. We were supposed to be there forever ago, Matthias."

Serah pinned her dark hair up, jerking open the door. In that small amount of time, she'd applied a deep crimson color across her lips and swept her eyelids with a bit of eye-shadow while her lashes were dark as midnight, elongated and beautiful, more than they naturally were. She looked up at Dean, who almost looked stunned to see her in such a way. Ass.

After a moment, Dean spoke. "I can still see your hickeys." He snickered. He reached forward, as if to touch them. Serah instinctively grabbed his hand and pushed it away, her face beginning to tint pink.

Dean laughed and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes straight set on her dark hazel ones. "Looks like your makeup doesn't work as good as you thought it would."

"Looks like you're an asshole." She snapped back, keeping her arms down to her side so she wouldn't end up rubbing her neck. With that, she made her way down the stairs and snagged her heels from the floor, sitting on the arm of the couch to put them on.

"You liked it." Dean simply shrugged, pulling on his jacket. He was wearing a suit. It actually looked good on him—tie and all.

Serah shot him an evil glance, appearing colder than before since her makeup only intensified her look. "We. Were. Drunk. Shut up about it." She hissed, her crimson lips pursed as she glared at him, her eyes like daggers as they bore into his bright green eyes. "Just shut up. It's over. It was a mistake. You are a mistake—you being here, you kissing me, you…_you_! You're an asshole and you live to get under my skin. I hate you."

"That's probably the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." Dean's grin only widened. His hands were tucked away in his pockets as he moved over to her. "I'm touched~"

"Fuck you." Serah spat.

"You wish." Dean retorted, only inches from leering over her. Curse his height. Curse the way he looked at her. Curse him.

"How dare you." Serah crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, her blood audibly boiling in her ears. "I would never fuck you—not even to save my god forsaken life. You—"

"You also said the same thing about kissing me, didn't you?" Dean inquired, letting out a deep sigh. He looked around the room momentarily, his eyes finally settling on her once again. She was fucking beautiful. It was annoying how good she looked—how he'd kissed her and she absolutely hated his guts. Just like old times. Dean changed the subject, his cockiness getting the better of him. "So, you're saying that if I kissed you, you'd hate it?

The question nearly knocked Serah off her perfect ass and down on the couch in a frenzy of spazzes while she cussed him out. However, she was too stunned to say anything. Her face flushed as crimson as her lips and she looked up at him—words choked up in her throat. "I-I'm sorry? What was that?"

"Im saying, that if I kissed you again…" Dean murmured, his body towering over hers as he narrowed her down onto the couch. "You would hate it? _Again_?"

Serah stared at him for a while before she spoke. She hated the way he towered over her like that. Like he owned her or something. He just had the nerve to barge into_ her_ house, drink _her_ beer, and kiss _her_ lips. He was an asshole. Simply that. "Yeah." she dazed, her voice sounding smaller than intended, making her curse herself mentally. "I would. You're an asshole. Y'know, naturally."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, a small smirk peeking at his lips as he leaned in closer to her, his tie dangling down and touching her chest. "Yeah?" he breathed, eyebrows raised, the smirk turning into a boyish smile. He knew that smile always knocked her off her feet. It was still Serah after all. "That's a shame. I can work wonders with my tongue."

"I bet you can." Serah retorted, sinking further back into the couch as Dean kept on moving closer and closer. He was just a womanizer at best. That was what he was known for anyways. "You wanna let me go or are you just gonna keep being an idiot?"

Difficult as always. "Sure, princess." he muttered, rolling his eyes and moving away from her. He would probably get her to kiss him next time. Besides, she was more of an idiot for not recognizing who he actually was. And although she never knew his real name, she should at least be able to see he looked somewhat familiar to her mid-summer romantic interest. "You ever wear ribbons?" he blurted, walking towards the door, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and twirling them around his index finger.

Serah was caught by that. Ribbons? Oh, come on now. She used to wear ribbons as a little girl. Pink, satiny, tied in the back, cascading down her dark and lengthy hair. She used to love those things, to be honest. She hadn't worn a pair of those since she left Bobby's house fifteen years ago."Ribbons?" She echoed, following him out the door. Dean wouldn't know that she used to wear ribbons. No. No way. Not unless he knew her before. But they just met, and this was getting more weird by the second. "How the hell would you know that I used to wear those?" she snapped, huffing as she slid into the Impala, shutting the door behind her and turning to Dean when he slid into his own seat.

"I didn't." Dean shrugged casually, starting the car. "Lucky guess. But hey, you could rock some ribbons. Maybe pink? Satiny? Tied in the back?"

She never liked the way she looked in those ribbons. Well, actually she did when she was a kid. But now? As an adult? She would be completely deprived of her "hunters card" if anyone saw her with a ribbon in her hair. Hell, the demons and ghosts wouldn't even take her seriously and just laugh her ass off to the next graveyard. "Im good, thanks." she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes following each house and car that flashed by them as they drove.

"Just trying to be nice. Fashion tips, y'know." Dean hinted, staring straight at the road. And although the atmosphere was pretty tense with the drunk making out, the still visible marks on both their necks, and the bluntly mentioned ribbons, he still tried to lighten the mood. Its what he did best, after all. "Girls like that shit."

"Not me." Serah muttered under her breath, not wanting to converse with this guy any longer. He was a pain in her ass. He was invasive, he was a man whore, and he was definitely trying to get in her pants. No doubt about that. "Im fine. Just-…Lets do our job, okay? Check the scene out and then I'm going home, got it?"

"Oo, feisty." Dean cooed, smiling to himself as he drove on, whizzing past Serah's neighborhood, towards the crime scene. The scene wasn't too far away from Serah's house, but the only way to it was through a back road, leaving them the only car on the empty highway. "I should keep you."

"I should slap you." Serah talked back, turning her head to glare at him, her eyes burning with annoyance. "I don't need your help anyways. I don't care what Bobby said."

Dean swallowed, covering it up with a small laugh. "Aw, cute." he grinned, glancing at her and winking. Charm. It worked for him usually. Except with this one. She was stubborn, stubborn like him. All strong and proud, having balls without growing any. Hell, she was probably a feminist too. Damn feminists. "You're a feminist. Right?"

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes, her jaw clenching tight. She was done. She had enough of his rude, narcissistic comments. She was leaving. "Pull over."

"Ha. You cant be serious…" Dean muttered, realizing she was completely serious by the lack of a response. He stopped talking for a while, brushing what Serah said off his shoulder and keeping the car going at full speed ahead, as if her remark would completely vanish anytime soon.

Serah stared at him, huffing out a breath. "Pull the fucking car over. Im done with you." she growled finally. "I swear, I hate you so much. You don't care about anything but yourself. You're a womanizer, and I would rather be caught dead than let you fuck me. I hate you, Dean Winchester. Pull the fucking car over."

Dean kept driving. "No." he grumbled, shrugging lightly. "I cant let you do that, kiddo. Sorry."

Serah laughed sourly. "Oh, you cant?" she remarked, pursing her lips. "Pull over. Im done with you. I don't even know why you're here anyways. Bobby knows I can handle myself."

Dean craned his neck slightly. She was seriously pissed? What the hell did he even do? He was being himself, he was being funny, and he didn't have a stick up his ass like some of the people in this car. "No, you cant." he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the wheel incase she was about to try anything sketchy. "Bobby didn't send me." he sighed.

Serah squinted her eyes at him. Ugh. Fuck, she didn't have a gun. Dean probably had loads of guns in the car somewhere, but he looked pissed, and if he was to get any madder, that would be the end of her. "What?" she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Then who the hell are you?!"

"You know who I am." Dean shrugged, shaking his head. "Im Dean fucking Winchester, remember? Womanizer, doesn't care about anyone, you would rather be caught dead than seen fucking me?"

"Well, yeah. I know that. I mean, why the hell are you here if Bobby didn't send you?" Serah asked, her tone firm and loud. This guy was nuts. "How would you know me?"

"I don't." Dean grunted, keeping his eyes narrowed at the empty road. "Just shut up, will ya? I swear, you can give a pretty nasty headache."

"Well, so can you!" She defended, her voice growing louder. "You have to know me! You cant just pick me up here and say that Bobby sent you! Who the hell do you think you are?!"

"Dean Winchester."

Serah let out a groan, rolling her eyes and scoffing soon afterwards. "Pull over, asshole."

"Nah." Dean shrugged, making a sour face. "I gotta stay with you, sweetheart. Sorry."

"Pull over!" She shouted, throwing her fist against his jaw, punching him hard. The car swerved slightly, not really making a difference since they were the only one's on the road. Dean on the other hand, rubbing his jaw and huffing out hot breaths, was fucking pissed. This girl…this damn girl. He was about to murder someone (probably the least of what he was going to do that night).

"Im done with you." Dean grunted, immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road, tires screeching against the hot asphalt. "Get the fuck out." he whispered, his voice dangerously quiet and low, making Serah swallow, shivers running down her spine.

His voice was never like that. She had only gotten her father like that once before when she accidentally shot the ceiling while trying to clean her shotgun. It was terrifying and she refused to clean a gun for three months after that, but with Dean? This was a whole other level of dangerous. She tried to shake it off as best as possible, hoping it would show him that she wasn't just a toy he could fuck around with. She was Serah Jane Matthias. She could kill a bear with her pinkie finger.

Serah swallowed again, huffing out a small breath and giving him a sarcastic smile. She finally cracked Dean Winchester. He could be an asshole, and a dick, and everything in between. But no, not to her. She got the better of him. "See ya, sweetie." she soured, stepping out of the car.

Dean kept his eyes glued on the steering wheel during the time it took for her to step outside of the car. He waited a moment, hoping she would think twice about this, but his hopes crushed, seeing her standing outside of the car, not saying a single word.

So, he drove off, whiskey waiting for him under his car seat.


	6. Ribbon Girl and Motor Boy

-Past

She was leaving most of her personal items—her journal, most of her clothes, things of that sort. She didn't want to, of course. They were memories, beautifully colored in which she'd cherished for her moment in time. She'd shared countless times with Bobby—learning how to shoot and him making her breakfast in bed and acting as a father—the father she had always wanted. And then there was Motor Boy—him holding her in the cover of the night, his green eyes shining in the sinful flashes of lightning, him getting mad when she'd hit a bulls-eye when they shot guns, him tilting his head back and laughing like a kid when Bobby commented on how her sassy mouth would get her into trouble. Memories, perfect and priceless treasures, which belonged to her.

And she was leaving them all behind because she had to. She had to leave.

"We're coming to get you." Trudy had said, sounding a bit sad herself as she listen to her daughter try and reason with her in turn. "Be ready to leave when we get there. I love you."

Serah took one last look at her room, the blue walls casting an almost sad shadow across the plane of her floor. She looked at her bed, feeling a lump rise up in her throat. Hours ago, she'd been there, sleeping in the arms of her only friend, her crush, her Motor Boy. Waking up to him was a treat. She'd memorized how his dark lashes fanned over his tan cheeks, how his hair fell ever so slightly over his eyes, the pattern of his even breaths, and even how his arms curled around her and tugged her into his chest. She hadn't meant to. It just happened. Just like the way she'd fallen in love with him—slowly, and then all at once. She had fallen in love with him, and she didn't even know his name. The situation as a whole was—it was crazy. It was a tiny, teenage dream that had held her captive since she first saw him. Too shy to speak and even more nervous due to his presence—he'd broken down every little wall she'd mentally built up in her mind. He'd made her who she was. Serah Matthias—too sassy for her own good and falling in love at 100 miles per second.

And she was leaving. She was leaving her life. She was leaving him.

Serah scampered down the stairs, keeping her tears at bay as she let out a hurried "goodbye" to Bobby before he could ask where she was going. She could see her father's pick up in the drive way, and her chest constricted. Overcome with emotions—happiness in seeing her parents once again and the deep rooted depression she was experiencing due to leaving her life in Sioux Falls behind—she rushed to her mother, who had stepped out of the car. Trudy said something, but Serah couldn't hear, and didn't want to. Tears were flowing in a steady stream down her ivory cheeks and the rapid beating of her heart echoed painfully into her ears, starting up a headache.

She heard the familiar sound of boots rush closer to the car—then stop. Motor Boy.

Serah lifted her head, her eyes bloodshot and puffy as she looked over at the utterly confused teenager, his face smeared with grease and his white t-shirt crumpled and creased. He took a step forward, and Serah shrank back. She couldn't face him. She couldn't say goodbye to him. If she did, she'd fall into his arms, a heaped mess as she sobbed into his chest—because she loved him. She loved Motor Boy. It was stupid, teenage love. But, it was love—in the purest form imaginable. It was even a bit cliché. The good girl falls in love with the bad boy. She'd expected a happy ending, however. Not this. Not leaving him.

Serah made her way around to the other side of the truck, slamming the door behind her. Her father drove off, asking what was wrong, at first. When Serah didn't answer, he kept quiet. Serah stared out the back of the truck, looking at Motor Boy once more—him beginning to move after the vehicle before standing and watching her leave.

Serah didn't speak to her parents for a whole week after that.

-Present-

Fuck.

Serah swore in her head, opening the door to her house and letting her heels drop to the floor. She'd hitched a ride with a man who was coming back into the town—a friendly old man, who always seemed to smell like peppermint and tobacco smoke. He'd dropped her off and wished her well, and now, she was home. Serah jerked her hair out of its bun, allowing her curls to sway along her lower back, near the top of her skirt. She padded over to her refrigerator, Akali rushing up beside her.

"The nerve of that man." Serah spoke to her dog, popping herself open a beer. "He's not even a man." Serah scoffed. Akali barked in response.

After her beer, Serah didn't fret over the situation. She did quite the opposite. Her clothes dropped off in the bathroom and turned the water on warm. Serah hadn't enjoyed a bubble bath in ages—so that's exactly what she did. She grabbed a book, some random one about a forbidden romance and loads of good sex, and soaked away in the warmth of the water and the soft comfort of foamy bubbles. It was nice—being able to relax without worrying about that prick Dean bothering her. It was a wonder he got women in bed. He was the most horrendous excuse for a man on earth. Sure, his eyes were killer and his jawline was (unfortunately) perfect, but under all that lean muscle and killer sex appeal, he was just an ass, dying to get a swing in someone's batter's box.

Serah (after a few beautiful hours of soaking and having mini heart attacks over characters in a book) relieved herself from the bath, stepping out and entering her room. She threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, usual pajama wear, and made her way down to the kitchen once again. Akali moved the other way, travelling up to her master's bedroom for bed.

Music floated from the nearby radio—Imagine Dragons or something like that—and Serah closed her eyes. Peace. It was peaceful once again within her house. No drunkenness. No fighting. No Dean. Only peace. And it was—

There was a collection of sharp bangs on her door, which caused Serah to jump. It was late enough. Who the hell could possibly at her house? She moved across the floor, rubbing her eyes. It had started raining only a few minutes ago, and in return, she was both relaxed and anxious. She hated storms. She didn't bother with looking through the peep hole to see who it was, she only opened the door, and suddenly wished she'd never opened it at all.

Dean Winchester was standing at her door, leaning against the door for support. He reeked of alcohol. How fucking perfect. "Serr….."

"Fuck off," Serah hissed immediately, trying to slam the door. She grew only angrier when he stopped the door with his foot, his green eyes burning a hole straight through her as he stared. "I'm gonna break your fucking foot if you don't move it, asswipe."

Dean let out a growl—one that was deep enough as to come off as animalistic and caused Serah to immediately back away from the door. Dean pushed through the door, his movements slightly sluggish as she advanced towards her. "You are the most aggravating, _goddamn_ woman I've ever met."

A roll of thunder shook the house and Serah swallowed hard. The storm was here.

"I get that a lot." Serah arms were crossed expertly over her chest, her stance defensive. She'd dealt with drunk men before. She could sure as hell deal with him. He wasn't anything. "Thanks. Why the hell are you here?" The question snapped off her tongue the way a snake would strike at an enemy—hate and annoyance dripping from her lips like warm honey. "We don't want anything to do with each other, so—"

"You don't even rhememmber me…" Dean interjected sharply, leaning against the counter with his hip as he used right arm to steady him. "You bitch."

_Crasshshhhhhhh boooOOOooOOOMMMMmmm_

Her fear of thunderstorms was almost comical. Her whole life, she'd been fighting demons and sirens and vampires without a shred of terror detected in her eyes. But now? In the light of lightning and the earth-shattering sound of thunder—she was more than terrified. She was simply petrified. However, she wouldn't show that to Dean. She had a fight to win.

Serah was starting to wish she'd grabbed her gun, now. "_Excuse _me?" She hissed, strands of her dark hair falling into her line of vision, making her look a bit more…dangerous. "Of course I remember you, asshole. You broke into my house and told me Bobby sent you. You got drunk. You kissed me. You dropped me off on the side of the road this afternoon. I remember you." And she remembered what he looked like when he was angry. His eyes were dark and perfectly demonic in every aspect. His (again, unfortunately) perfect jaw was clenched tight. His lean body was tense and bowed up—seeming to make him grow an extra few inches so that he loomed over her small stature even more now. "I remember you." Serah continued, adrenaline coursing through the numerous veins in her body. "You're Dean Winchester. A pain in the ass. A lady killer. A _prick_."

Dean let out a sour laugh, the sound coming out in slurred staccatos. "No." he growled, narrowing his glossy eyes at her. "Y'ou 'member Motor Boy, don't you, Serah?"

That name made her shut up. No. In fact it made her freeze down to the very core, her body paralyzed with anxiety. "What?" she breathed, swallowing and trying to keep her chin high over his presence. "What the hell are you talking about? How the hell- he's dead. He died years ago."

"No." Dean grumbled again, glancing over at the counter, the empty bottles from the night before still there. "Oh, he's alive alright. You're j'hust gullible."

Serah squinted her eyes at Dean, nothing yet everything making sense at the same time. Motor Boy wasn't dead? No, that couldn't be. Bobby had told her he took a hard hit with Azazel, the fight killing both him and the demon. Yeah, she was heart broken, but she moved on. She had that asshole David at the time, helping to convince herself that Motor Boy was gone, only a ghost from her past.

But if Motor Boy wasn't dead, then where was he? And why the hell did Bobby make her believe that he was? And god, why the everliving fuck did Dean know who he-

No. It couldn't be.

He wasn't. No way.

"What the hell are you talking about, Winchester?" Serah snarled, tucking strands of her dark hair behind her ear.

Dean huffed out a breath. God, she was an idiot sometimes. "You're an idiot sometimes." he muttered, speaking his mind and huffing out another breath. "Fuck you, forget it."

"No!" Serah snapped, shuffling towards him and shoving him enough to make him stubble back, but weak enough for him to be able to regain his stance quickly. "You tell me what the hell is going on! Right now!"

He was done. He had it with this girl. She didn't even remember him. She deserved what she had coming for her now. "You don't remember me!" he shouted, shoving her back weakly, the alcohol dumbing down his performance. "You fucker, you don't remember me!"

Serah held her ground well, his shoves only making her more and more aggravated. The storm was getting louder by the minute, the dark air making Dean's silhouette bigger and more threatening than usual. "God damn it, Dean, I do!" she shouted back, leaning against the opposite wall from him. "You're drunk off your ass, go home!"

"Motor Boy. Remember him!?" Dean huffed, his fists tight, his body tighter. "Of course you fucking don't, you hated him!"

Serah stared at Dean with a horrified look, another round of thunder shaking her house, the pictures on the walls swaying against the white plaster. "How the hell do you even know him?! He's dead!"

"Do I look fucking dead to you?!" Dean screamed, stumbling back slightly and grabbing an empty beer bottle, his eyes dead set on hers. Yeah, he would make her pay. He was sure of it. "Yeah, that's right, you bitch! It's me, good ol' Dean Winchester is Mr. Motor Boy! And you fucking forgot me!"

Oh my god.

That was him. That was him? God, he grew up. Now she could totally see that he was Motor Boy. The same defiant jaw line, the same ruthlessness along with the same cockiness that bathed in its own glory. Her mind was instantly transporting her back to when they were kids. He was seventeen, she was fifteen. Motor B- Dean, Dean would get pissed when she could shoot at her target and he missed his mark. He was pissed, but he still liked her regardless. And now, now she was just stupid. He was here and he wasn't dead and she didn't even know it was him when he walked through her front door.

She couldn't respond. She couldn't do anything at that moment except stare and think of how much she was an idiot right now.

Dean kept rambling on, the alcohol making his vision diluted and his aim worse as he chucked the bottle forwards, whizzing right next to Serah's face and shattering on the wall behind her, causing her to snap out of her trance. "You got nothin' to say, huh bitch?!" he snarled, grabbing another bottle.

"Dean, stop!" Serah shouted back, holding her hands out in front of her. She felt small again. With her hands out in front of her and her eyes wide with fear, his anger was pouring out of him and she just felt…weak. She was weak and Dean was about to fucking murder her. "I'm sorry, okay?! I just- I didn't know it was you! I thought he-…I thought you were dead!"

"I'm fucking livin' and breathin' unfortunately!" Dean growled, the bottle in his hand tapping against his thigh. She was a fucking asshole, he was probably a bigger one. But she didn't remember him. He had every right to be pissed. And even if he wasn't Motor Boy, she was being a bitch to him earlier. He had no problem throwing bottles.

"Dean, just calm down." Serah breathed in a shaky voice, not daring to move a muscle as the bottle seemed to determine her fate. "You're drunk…Just…calm down."

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down, you did this to me!" Dean snarled. The bottle seemed to have a mind of its own as it whirled out of his grasp and thrown against the wall next to Serah's head, barely skimming her dark hair. "You ruined me! I waited fifteen fucking years and you don't even remember my damn face?!"

Serah let out a small whimper. Yep. She was down to that. She was mortified.

"Dean…Dean, please." She begged, swallowing and shutting her eyes, feeling a corner of the bottle brush her ear as it flew past her and shattered into a cascade of glass behind her. "I'm sorry, okay?! Just calm down."

She was obviously terrified of him now. He was obviously drunk off his ass and pissed. And yay, no more bottles left on the counter. He clenched his jaw again, glaring at her with dark and dead eyes. "Fuck, I hate you." he growled, thunder booming behind him as he stepped forwards. "I always did and I hate that I came back. I hate this all."

The thunder was heart stopping enough as it was, she didn't need Dean telling her all this.

"You didn't have to come." she said, looking up at him, her figure childish and weak under his looming presence.

Dean laughed wickedly, his toxic breath hitting her face. "I didn't wanna come." he muttered. "But here I am. At your service, Ribbon Girl." he spat, rolling his eyes and sticking a hand in his jacket pocket before pulling out two small things.

They weren't that small really, just crumpled up. Old. Pink. Satiny.

"I don't need these fuckers anymore." Dean growled, throwing the ribbons in Serah's face before stumbling off.

Serah's old ribbons from fifteen years ago. He kept them all these years. During every hunt, every one night stand, every day he had those ribbons in his pocket. And now, they were useless.

Serah peeled the ribbons off her face, holding the crumpled fabric loosely in her hands. He was an asshole, no doubt. But he was faithful. Fifteen years and he still kept onto the ribbons. He was still hers. He was still her Motor Boy.

She hadn't even realized when he left until the door slammed shut, another clap of lighting sounding through the house, her body petrified and trembling.

Then she realized, he was gone. He was gone who knows where. And she was alone again.

She fell to the ground, the ribbons intertwined in between her fingers loosely. She leaned against the wall, swallowing and shutting her eyes again as she tried not to break down in tears at that moment. Every fiber in her body was telling her to cry. She wanted to cry even. But she was more scared and lonely than anything. Broken glass, faded ribbons, and a storm that raged like hell. Nothing could make this better. Nothing.

So, she did what she wanted to do.

She cried.


End file.
